HP Fic: El Tango De Sirius, Sirius/Remus, NC-17

El Tango De Sirius:Starring Remus J. Lupin and Pertaining to a Very Strange Occurrence Wherein There is Dancing And Sirius Black. A Comedy.Author: Regala ElectraEmail: regala_electra@yahoo.comRating: NC-17Pairing: Sirius/RemusSummary: "If you bloody shuffle one more time, I'll shuffle you off the mortal coil. Now, let's begin again, and this time, think of the children, think of England, think of not crushing my toes."Author's Notes: Firstly, thanks go to faith_girl222 for the preliminary beta. As for the fic, it's all about the foreplay. And the bantering. That too. The foreplay and the bantering. Oh, and the dancing. So, the bantering and the foreplay and the dancing. There is a story and not just an excuse for sex. *Ahem.* I do know salsa music and tango music are totally different. And that Latin music is not really the correct term to classify all permutations of Caribbean music. Now, let's get to the porn.Feedback: Makes me write even more p0rn.

*

Thud

"No, no, at this rate, you'll never become a champion ballroom dancer!"

Sitting on his very sore arse, legs awkwardly splayed out in front of him, Remus mutters darkly, "I believe I never said I wanted to be a champion-" he rolls his eyes at the madness, "even I can't play in this mad pretense."

"Aww, Moony, are we a little angry today?" Sirius crosses his arms, faking a sympathetic voice, "Has someone spat in your tea this morning? Well it doesn't matter - because if you don't dance until your very heart falls out of your chest, and beats one last, gasping beat on the bloody ground as you dance and dance till everyone slowly claps and cheers only for you and your fantastic dancing as you then die in a dramatic scene, swearing that you regret nothing, then you'll never win the tin trophy and the children will have their orphanage torn down and do you want that Moony? Do you? Are you a cruel and heartless werewolf, or merely a dance-challenged one?"

There are times when Remus wonders why he is living with Sirius. He never questions why he is sleeping with him, that's perfectly explainable, but why he's living with him and why he's letting Sirius prepare him for James' and Lily's wedding when he would have been perfectly content not to dance, is something he has no answer for.

It is the sex, that's the answer. That and he'd rather not look like a fool.

"It's really a simple move, you just-"

"Well if you didn't prod at my sides every time I take an incorrect step, maybe I'd improve, you bloody mad savage," he seethes, rubbing his aching (and definitely bruised) hip.

"Pain is beauty, Moony," Sirius says cheerfully, resetting the record player. "And beauty is not your dancing, I'm afraid. Are you really a werewolf or just an ogre?"

"A troll. It's been terribly difficult shaving all that hair and tricking you all with my dark secret. Awfully ashamed."

"It's no problem. Certainly explains your dreadful clumsiness. That and that growth spurt." Sirius sighs dramatically, "When you get the hang of it, I'm going to have to let you lead, but of course, that won't happen as you're bloody awful. Now, it's ball-change left or it's your sweet, sweet arse yet again that'll suffer your weight, I'm afraid."

He says this as though he's regretful, but there's a far too cheery glint in his eyes.

Remus is not stupid. He's in - well, er - like. Yes, it's not that he is stupid, it's that he's in like.

He is a bloody idiot.

"Ahh!" Sirius breaks away, hands covering his face, "This is dreadful. It's like dancing with a bear, with an ox, with a bloody door-"

"This is marvelous for my confidence. Is there anything else you'd like to say?"

"Yes," Sirius says, and he stalks over, standing too close, his face reddened slightly. "If you bloody shuffle one more time, I'll shuffle you off the mortal coil. Now, let's begin again, and this time, think of the children, think of England, think of not crushing my toes."

"You are a marvelous instructor," Remus says under his breath, trying not to look at his feet as Sirius begins leading him once more.

"It's so simple, you hear can the music obviously, as you are not deaf - you're not right? I could swear you came that time when I said in your ear that I'd just love to-"

fuck

Remus breaks away, feeling his cock harden. "That is not helping, Pads. That is NOT helpful!"

Sirius cocks his head, and does one of the many faces that Remus has categorized as 'danger!' faces. This is not good. "No, I think it is. Something faster, then."

He selects one of the few scattered records he's laid out (like a sacrifice to the dancing gods, as he explained), and the sounds of fast-paced Latin music starts and Remus considering apparating *anywhere else* but Sirius is on him, and he can only weakly sputter out, "I can barely manage a simple waltz, you want to dance as - like that?"

"No," Sirius says, his most seductive (and therefore, cruel) smile playing at his lips, "We're going to dance like this."

Remus shakes his head, trying to protest, but Sirius overrides his weak attempts.

"Now, since you've mastered the shuffle and since you've stepped on my feet far too many times to count, I want you to do something simple: try to step on my foot."

"Try?"

"Like this," and Sirius takes a rather large step forward in time to the particularly loud drum being struck, and Remus has to quickly step back to avoid getting stomped on. "Again," and Remus takes another step back.

"Now, your arms, keep them up, yes, like that," and Sirius keeps his own evenly at shoulder length. Only their arms are in contact with another and Remus feels like a complete fool. A very aroused fool. Completely.

Remus does not realize his back is at the wall until he hits it. Or rather, his sore arse hits it. He groans and says, "I am not going to be able to sit for a long, long time."

Sirius now grins his mad grin (which is probably his most frightening 'happy' expression) and shakes his head, his long, shaggy hair jostling about with the movement, "Well, there's plenty of fun messing about while standing. Or to the knees. Or just enough-" And Sirius steps forward, but there is nowhere to go and Remus' cock comes in contact with Sirius body and fuck, there is nothing better than this.

There is the vague hint of sweat highlighting Sirius' scent as they have been practicing for quite a while, and it smells far too close to sex, to after-sex, and Remus wants sex now and he is willing to beg.

Fuck, he will become a classically trained ballerina at this moment. With the damned tutu and all.

"Are we dancing together at the wedding?" Sirius says this all very fast under his breath, inches away from Remus' mouth which is very wrong and must be rectified now.

Remus almost makes contact with Sirius' lips, enjoying the mere ghost of sensation, "Well, I had asked you to help correct my rather stilted moves so that I could trade up, however-"

"I'd probably never leave the apartment. I'd be too mesmerized and then I shall waste away and you'll be responsible for killing me. Murderer."

"I am a savage after all. Grrr," Sirius says, laughing a bit into Remus' mouth. As his lips slid over Remus', Remus forgets everything, even the bloody loud Latin music.

"What is this exactly," he questions, as Sirius begins unbuttoning his shirt, which is a bad idea, because Sirius might answer and stop with his wonderful, generous, merciful removal of clothing.

"Oh, salsa," he says off-handed, single-handedly removing Remus' shirt and it is very, very nice to be in the process of sex, oh yes.

"Can we perhaps-" Remus weakly gestures around the room, not even remembering just what he was about to ask because Sirius' hand is over his hard, too hard erection and it is not the responsibility of any man to be able to manage anything beyond, "oh, yes" and "oh...yes."

"What? You need a mood? Something romantic, with lyrics all about swooning over your eyes and your giant nose and the night and tiny floating angels creepily staring at you while you're naked and attending to personal business? Some candles perhaps and perfume? Satin sheets? Anything you want, my love," And Sirius begins to make his way down, unbuckling pants and sliding it past Remus' hips and freeing his cock, "And I shall attend to your every wish."

"You are too kind," Remus manages before his brain explodes.

But it doesn't.

"You're right," and Sirius is up and about again, pulling his pants back up. Which is NOT how this is supposed to happen. Not at all.

"Er-" is however all he can manage for his argument.

"So, now I believe it's your turn to stomp on the poor, mangled stumps that were once my feet," and he waggles his eyebrows, "haven't you realized what dancing is all about yet, Moony?"

"Torture?" he whispers between the tight line that once was his mouth.

"Yes! Or, if you'd like," and he leans in for just a moment before Remus can tackle him so they can get back to their previous wonderful activities, "It's all about the foreplay. Now, right foot, and chin up."

"You are evil," Remus grounds out, taking a tentative step and is surprised that he hasn't fallen yet.

Sirius makes his evil pointed claw-like hands, which he has dubbed his 'training hands.' Nothing good has come from them. "This is evil. Now move all of your body and not just those feet, or you'll see how evil I can be."

Not wanting to get stabbed in the hips again, he takes a rather hard step, surprised at Sirius' nod of approval.

"You'll be the best man with shining saffron curls and brilliant green skin."

Sirius quickly turns out of his reach. "Empty threats. I thought you were the wordsmith, mate."

Remus suddenly finds something in the music, a continued strain, a beat, and he times his words carefully as he moves forward, "I. Am Very. Fucking. Tired. And. My. Arse. Is. Sore. You. Mad. Bloody. Prat." And then Sirius is at the other end of the room, pinned to the wall and Remus realizes-

"Excellent, work! We'll make a champion of you yet."

Remus tears off Sirius' shirt, tossing it somewhere vaguely behind him, only partially aware that is a kind of move that has never successfully happened before and he really doesn't care.

Sirius returns back to his previous task of freeing Remus from his pants and Remus can only help in change, not even bothering to admire Sirius' body because the dance has gone on far enough. The music is loud in his ears and he cannot hear Sirius making a whining noise as they kiss, mouths unintentionally in tune to the beat.

Sirius' cock slides just right against his own, and he gasps, partly out of breath, and mostly out of the wonderful sensations tearing through his body, bright and hot and hitting every nerve along the way.

Remus loves to dance. Yes he does.

He reaches down and cups Sirius' ass, purposely squeezing far too hard and Sirius makes a noise to protest and all Remus can say is, "Revenge."

"You have a strange idea of revenge. I love it."

"You better."

"Don't threaten," Sirius warns, pushing Remus' hair away from his face and working quick lightning-fast pecks down Remus' jaw, "Or I'll return the favor, and I don't have the multi-colored ass. Though," and he makes a point to look, "It is rather lovely in its blacks and blues. I'll have to take a picture."

"Oh no," Remus says, his hand moving down to briefly stroke Sirius's cock before taking time to fondle his balls, before moving back to running his fingers down Sirius' stomach (which may not be able to bounce quarters, but is still quite nice), "There will be no photographic evidence."

"A pity," Sirius gasps, "We could make a fortune just selling them."

Remus logically knows he can do several things. He could tell Sirius to shut up and die of shock if Sirius actually did. He can go down and take that cock in his mouth and yes, that is a very, very favorable idea, or he can-

Sirius pounces. Literally. Figuratively. Some kind of a -ly.

And he lands on his bottom and sees stars and not the kind he was looking forward to.

This is his dance, dammit. Now he's thinking in metaphor and he's gone round the bend and he's taking Sirius with him, so he pushes him over, rolling him on his back, and his fingers make very deliberate trails down Sirius' body.

Sirius can be a tease, but he is also extremely obvious and now it's Remus' mission to drive Sirius to the brink of insanity, though he's quite sure that Sirius has set up permanent residence there.

It is odd to be overcome with the image of Sirius sitting on the porch of a beaten cottage hovering precariously over an edge of a mountain cliff while he is reaching closer and closer to Sirius' hard cock, almost straining with frustration.

Remus has never claimed to possess any shred of normalcy.

Or decency. He quickly moves away, his hands working down Sirius' legs before abandoning that journey, now tasting along Sirius' clavicle, ignoring a rather pathetic mumble of protest.

He kisses the hollow of Sirius' throat, slow and careful. "You know," he says conversationally, "I rather prefer swing music. Big band and all that."

Sirius glares at him and irritably replies, "Well swing your way over to my big band and I swear I'll start bloody playing a trombone, Moony."

"That is absolutely one of the worst double entendres I've ever heard you use."

Sirius rolls his eyes and proceeds to do some exploring of his own. There is a flash of triumph in his eyes as Remus moans while his hand tightens around his cock. "Triple."

"Triple, eh?" And Remus carefully takes Sirius' hand off of him, now feeling positively cheerful because sex is so, so smashing, "Shall I perform trippingly upon the tongue then?"

Because Remus learned a long time ago that deep-throating Sirius is perhaps the only way to shut him up. And is very effective.

Though, he thinks, moving ever so carefully up and down his shaft, perhaps not so useful when you need it. He can't exactly tug off Sirius' robes and unzip his trousers and have at it during an Order meeting. Not that he's ever tried. Yet.

When Sirius comes with a long, heavy shudder, Remus finds himself somehow on his back and before he can respond or react, Sirius has moved down and, and -

There is nothing, nothing better than dance lessons from Sirius.

Sirius moves back up, their bodies sweaty and a fine mess, and lies down next to him.

Later, after a few post-coital snogging sessions on the floor, Remus says, "We're going to have to ask them not to play anything Latin, aren't we?"

"That, or scandalize many, many relatives of old Prongs and Evans." Sirius doesn't even pretend to think about it. "So it'll be a full Latin band with the maracas and such. Actually, it doesn't matter, I don't think any salsa will be played."

He then feigns an innocent look, blinking slowly, "I did mention that, right?"

"You've done many novice dancers proud, dear Moony. You'd figured out the secret to dancing, and yes, I will have to make sure there is an empty coatroom for our use during the blessed event, but I believe my success as a coach is worth it. The little orphans shall have their home and you will be a champion."

"I'm only here for the sex you know. And I am going to kill you. In the end."

"You won't," and Sirius winks at him, "There is to be no maiming, poisoning, cursing, hexing, or otherwise incapacitating of the best man until after the wedding."

"Oh, I'll keep my promise to James. And then afterwards I'm going to maim you something terrible afterwards, honestly, I can't even lie down on my arse, you berk."

"Pain," Sirius says, in a wavering 'lecture tone,' "Is beauty. Dancing is beauty, therefore, there should be pain, and not to poor feet which have done nothing, you cruel, cruel monster."

"You know," Remus says, thoughtfully, "I honestly can tell you that I'll never listen to salsa music the same way again."

"It's because the rhythm is in your heart! You and the music are one! That, and, as long as I am around and my feet are not crushed by giant werewolves, I solemnly swear, I shall be willing to shag you senseless."